“They did.”

“What?” said Whit, startled. “They didn’t just ditch you here, did they?”

“No, they paid me off.”

“But that’s not fair. Just because you’re off your feet for a week or two, they shouldn’t ought to sack you!” Whit scowled in outrage at this injustice.

“Didn’t. I asked to be let off.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to stay. Here. No, not here.” A vague wave around took in Pearl Riffle. “With him.” Hod pointed to Dag. “He could hire me.”

“To do what?” asked Fawn in bafflement.

“I dunno.” Hod shrugged. “Just…things. Anything.” He glanced up warily at Dag. “Well, sitting-down things at first, I guess.” He added after a minute, “He wouldn’t have to pay me or anything.”

“Do you know much about boats?” Fawn asked thoughtfully. She glanced up at Berry, still sitting on the roof edge and watching it all with some perplexity.

Hod gave an uncertain headshake.

Whit’s lips screwed up; he strolled over to Berry’s dangling feet and whispered up to her, “Hod’s not too quick in the wits, I’m afraid.”

“Neither was my last two oarsmen. Took me days to get my cook-pots back.”

Whit muffled a grin, and went on, “But he’s willing. I mean, he could be, once he gets over having his knee kicked in by Dag’s evil nag. That’s what happened, see, how he got hurt in the first place. Dag fixed him up again Lakewalker-style.”

“Mm. The Fetch is still a bit shorthanded, it’s true.”

“He’s sort of an orphan, I gather.”

Berry’s brows rose. “Huh. Funny. So am I, sort of.” Her stare down at Hod grew more appraising.

Dag wondered if he’d get anywhere offering to throw Hod up behind him on Copperhead and gallop after Mape and Tanner, delivering their henchman back to them to be firmly returned to Glassforge. Hod plainly wouldn’t want to go, and Dag was beginning to have a very ugly misgiving about why. And it wasn’t just on account of Hod’s unhappy former life.

Could he test his suspicion? Hod was bent over with both hands on his right knee again, helplessly patting at it. It was clear his pain was very real.

Dag swallowed and cleared his throat. “All right, Hod. I can give you just a little more ground reinforcement. But then you have to behave and follow orders about letting that knee heal, all right?”

Hod’s face lit with joy; he nodded vigorously. His lips parted as he watched Dag bend down and lay his hand on the joint again.

The wrench of the reinforcement came readily; Dag felt it like a wave of heat passing from his palm into the throbbing joint below. For a moment, all the tension seemed to go out of Hod’s body. He gave vent to an aah of blissful relief. “That’s good,” he whispered to Dag. “That’s so good.”

Fawn patted Hod’s shoulder again in encouragement. “There, see? You’ll be all right soon.”

Berry, watching, scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. “That’s real interesting, Lakewalker. You some kind of bonesetter, too, are you?”

“Sometimes,” Dag admitted, climbing to his feet. His heart was pounding, and it wasn’t from the exertion. “Just in emergencies. I’m not trained as a real medicine maker.”

Fawn started to explain proudly to Berry how Dag had once mended a glass bowl by groundwork, but broke off as Dag grasped her by the arm and dragged her into the cabin. He didn’t stop till they were out of earshot back by the kitchen hearth.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, alarmed. “Isn’t Hod healing all right?”

“Oh, his knee’s healing fine. So’s his gut.”

“Well, that’s a relief. You know, I’m thinking maybe a trip on the river would be good for Hod, too, now he’s not going to be so sick all the time. I bet we all could watch after him better ’n those glass-men did.”

“Fawn, stop. It’s not that. It’s something else.”

She blinked at his tone, then looked at him more carefully.

“Hod”—Dag took a deep breath—“is beguiled to the eyebrows. And I don’t know how to get him un-beguiled.”

Dag had the most unsettled look on his face, downright dismayed. Fawn felt pretty dismayed herself. “How did it happen?” she asked.

“Not sure. Well, it must have happened when I healed his knee, yes, but—I didn’t mean to. I always thought beguilement was something you had to do on purpose.”

“It’s something real, then?” She had thought it rumor, tall tale. Slander.

“I’d never seen a case. Only heard about it. Gossip, stories. I’ve never known a farmer who—well, till I met you, I hadn’t really known any farmers at all. Passed through, passed by, dealt with farmers, yes. Never got so close, for so long.”

“What’s this beguilement like?”

“You saw near as much as I did. Hod wants more. More healing. More ground reinforcement, more pieces of…me, I guess.”

Her face screwed up in new confusion. “But Lakewalkers have healed me. You, Mari, old Cattagus once a little, when I scorched my hand. And I’m not beguiled.” Am I? The thought went well beyond dismay. She remembered her own rage when Dag’s brother Dar had implied just such a thing, mocking her marriage.

“I…” Dag shook his head. It would have reassured Fawn more to think it was in denial and not just Dag trying to clear his brain. “Those were minor healings. What I did on Hod was as deep as any medicine making I know of. I nearly groundlocked myself.”

Her hand went to her lips. “Dag, you never said!”

He waved away her alarm. “And you—I’m not sure how to put this. Your ground isn’t hungry like Hod’s. You’re abundant. I don’t think you know how much you give to me, every day.” His brows drew down, as if he pursued some insight that eluded him. “I’d half-talked myself into thinking the risk of beguiling farmers during healing was exaggerated. That others might have problems, but that I’d be an exception. Looks like I need to think again.”

Both their heads swiveled at the sound of footsteps. Boss Berry, frowning, ambled into the cramped living quarters at the back of the cabin. “What do you want to do about that boy, Lakewalker? You takin’ responsibility for him or not? He’s only about half-useful as he stands. Or sits.”

Fawn said, her voice tinged with doubt, “He could be a scullion, I suppose. How long till he could man a sweep, Dag?”

“If he could be taught, you mean? Couple of weeks. If he doesn’t do anything to reinjure the knee.” He looked at Fawn, his brows pinching harder. “In two weeks, we’ll be far down the river.”

“If it ever rains again,” sighed Berry.

“If he’s to be left behind, better here than in some strange place,” said Dag. “I can’t…see my way.”

Of how to un-beguile Hod, did he mean? And if Hod were left at Possum Landing, would he still try to follow Dag? How far? “Well…if we take him along, you may or may not figure it out. If you leave him here, you never will.”

He scratched his chin ruefully. “There’s a point, Spark.”

Fawn glanced at Berry, who was waiting with her brows up. No, the boat boss’s own situation was far too unsettled to ask her for undertakings or promises on behalf of Hod. It was up to them. Fawn said, “I’m willing to try with him if you are, Dag.”

Dag took a breath. “Then we’ll haul him along.”

Boss Berry gave a short nod. “The Fetch has itself a scullion, then.” She added, in mild regret, “I won’t charge nothing for his passage.”

In the warmest part of the afternoon, Bo led an expedition downstream to the Riffle, where the locals had gathered to salvage coal from a recently wrecked flatboat before the water rose again. Hod stayed on the Fetch with his leg up, supposedly keeping watch but probably, Fawn thought, napping. Whit’s interest was aroused when he learned that the wrecked boat’s boss was buying back coal retrieved from the river bottom by the bushel, albeit at a meager price. Some gatherers preferred to carry off the coal itself, and then, after some jawing, the meager price was paid the other way; Berry explained to Fawn that the going rate had been worked out a few days earlier, when the gatherers had dumped their baskets back in the worst part of the rapids before the boat boss saw reason. Whit stripped to his drawers and sloshed in after Bo and Hawthorn to duck and dive for the scattered cargo—or, contorting, grub it up with his toes. Fawn found herself drawn in along with Berry, skirts tucked up and feet bare as they waded out to receive dripping sacks and pile up the coal on the bank to dry. The water was growing chilly as the autumn waned.